Death
by Zero.Elektronik
Summary: In the war between America and Canada, there were some losses greater than others. Done for the 100 theme challenge, you should know this.


**Done for the 100 theme challege.**

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**"_We could be grounded for two, maybe three weeks." _Somehow, that was the worst thing he could think of happening to them that night, the thought of death never crossed his mind - Christophe always thought he was invincible.

The fucking guard dogs. He had told him exactly what to do - it was so simple! How could he have messed it up? Stupid Americans. And now, Christophe was dying. Blood running from his forehead down his tanned skin, cigarette held in between his lips as he slowly bled to death. It was cold, and he could feel death taking him slowly, as he began to lose all feeling. He'd never been scared of death, hell, it'd be pointless in his line of work, and he wasn't scared of what awaited him the other end - he hoped he'd at least get to see God, and punch him right between the eyes, but he knew he was going to hell. It didn't seem like a bad place though, he thought. Kyle held him, gripping his hand tightly and willing him to just get back up - Hell, he didn't know how they'd manage to get out of this. It didn't work, and Christophe died, in his arms.

In the midst of the battle, Satan had appeared along with Saddam, and this has gotten a bit too strange for Gregory. Quickly sneaking away and hoping Wendy would do the sensible thing and stay where she was, he went to the back of the USO Show building so he could see the hole on the stage, and soon found its entrance. Next to the freshly dug hold was his best friend. He didn't know what to do. There was blood all over the floor, and the cigarette in his mouth had now gone out. He shouldn't have let them go. Shouldn't have sent them to him. Should have been persistent in doing it himself, but instead gave in to Stan's pathetic attempt to impress Wendy. Never send a boy to do a man's job, after all. Gregory knelt beside him, being careful to avoid getting blood on his clothes - he wouldn't want to explain that to his mother - and taking the cigarette butt from his lips and throwing it onto the floor before kissing his forehead gently.

_"La Resistance will not forget you, my friend."_

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_The war was over, thanks to Kenny. He wished for everything to go back to how it was before the war, and as Satan agreed and reversed everything that happened, the battlefield full of dirt, cold blood and corpses slowly but surely changed to green grass, and hearts beating once more. Gregory had already made his way back to see this happen but as everything went back to normal, and decided Wendy decided she didn't want him anymore, he took this as the chance to run back to where he had previously been - he'd never run so fast before. But when he arrived, the scene was still the same. Everyone else had come back - why not him? He didn't like crying, but it took all the strength he had to prevent himself crying over the Frenchman's death. This was quickly distracted by a cough.

_"...Eez....eez zat you, mon ami?"_

"_C-Christophe?!"_

"_Zat eez not…not my name."_

Bringing his hand up to his mouth and coughing out blood, the mercenary glanced over to Gregory and grinned, grabbing his shirt and pulling himself up, leaving bloody dirt prints on the Brit's shirt. He didn't notice, he was too busy thinking of things to say - what do you say to someone who just died and came back? "How was hell? Did you have a nice time? Sorry about being mauled to death." No, that wasn't going to end well. So instead he let his body do the talking, flinging his arms around him and hugging him tightly whilst Christophe looked disgusted and pushed him off after a few seconds. The Brit then took a packet from his pocket - Marlboro's - and handed it to Christophe. Gregory didn't smoke, and decided if he did it would be the mercenary's fault, but he always kept cigarettes on him in case he didn't have any. And a nicotine deprived Christophe, was a scary Christophe.

"_Ah, Merci, mon ami."_

"_Are…Are you okay?"_

"_I got mauled to death because of some fat kid, zen I go to 'ell. And zen just as I start getting used to zat - I get dragged back up 'ere. God can't even let me die, can 'e? 'e 'as to pull me back up but non, not nice and new like Kenny, I still 'urt and bleed."_

"…_Come on, we'll take you home, your mother will be worried sick!"_

"_Sick? Sick at ze fact even death cannot get rid of me, ze beetch 'ates me."_


End file.
